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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673514">a home in the water, a home in you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore'>elmshore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Other, Pool Sex, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:34:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmshore/pseuds/elmshore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A midnight swim turns into something much, much more than Cordelia originally bargained for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Falk, detective/falk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a home in the water, a home in you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for a prompt over on tumblr! In this, Cordelia is <em>not</em> the Detective, she is instead an Agent working for the Agency.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is well past midnight when she reaches the pool, gliding past security clearance and through the large, double doors.</p><p>Even with the Agency’s impressive budget, the artificially cool air filling the Warehouse is not enough to fend off the sweltering summer heat. Beads of sweat condense on her too-warm skin and Cordelia huffs, absently fanning herself. Strands of fiery hair stick to the nape of her neck and bare, freckled shoulders, irritatingly damp.</p><p>She is grateful to find the area vacant of any other agents, at least. Hardly surprising, of course, given the late hour — apparently, no one else thought of having a nightly swim — but still, she is thankful for the solitude. </p><p>Ahead of her, the large pool beckons. Clear waters act as a lure, inviting, calling out to her. The gently swaying surface appears to glow in the pale light pouring in from the glass-paned ceiling high above, and it is beautiful, tempting. Sunlit eyes do a quick sweep of the massive room, one final check to ensure that yes, she <em>is </em>alone, and then she is moving forward.</p><p>Unties the fabric at her waist and lets it drop, shivering as warm air passes over warmer flesh, goosebumps pebbling along her thighs. Cordelia feels a little strange, being so underdressed — the bikini is almost <em>too </em>revealing, bought on a whim and never worn before — but, given the heatwave currently gripping Wayhaven, she supposes it can be excused.</p><p>Just this once, at least.</p><p>Cordelia dips a foot in, slowly, cautiously. Gasps, a chill skittering up her spine, and goes still. Then, further in, until she is lowering herself to the edge, both legs submerged and with a deep breath, slips into the water, sinks under the surface. And the relief is immediate, the inferno raging just under her skin quells and when she emerges, breaks through the surface with another gasp, it feels wonderful.</p><p>She feels at home in the water, a sense of peace, tranquility. Often, as a child, she felt an ever-constant need to play in the rivers and lakes near their palace. It became a running joke, to have her father laugh and wonder, teasingly, if she were part-mermaid.</p><p>A fierce ache strikes at her heart and the pang is familiar, an old acquaintance. Never too far behind, when thoughts of her father arise. </p><p><em> I wonder if he misses me, </em>a traitorous part of her whispers, but she shakes her head, glaring at the water.</p><p>Quickly, she shakes the thought aside. “Now is not the time,” she murmurs, voice all-but booming in the quiet. Pushes forward, instead, legs and arms propelling her through the water. Reaches the opposite side of the pool and grabs hold, arms folding atop the smooth, marble-white concrete. </p><p>No, now is certainly not the time for such thoughts, not when so much else occupies her mind.</p><p>With a sigh, she leans forward and tilts her head back, eyes finding solace in the starry sky above. Dimly, she can make out Venus, shining brilliantly, and the sight brings a smile to her lips, quiets a bit of the anxiety whirling within her.</p><p>So much has happened lately, and yet it feels as if she has had very little time to process any of it. Between the bounty now placed on Detective Santos — who seems to be taking it in stride, much to the chagrin of Agent Sewell, who seems none too pleased at the threat now facing her beloved — and the increased activity of the Trappers, nevermind the recent kidnappings. </p><p><em> And I thought small towns were meant to be quiet</em>, she muses, fingers idly tapping a rhythm against the floor, toes bumping along the side of the pool. </p><p>Cordelia knows it is not entirely her place, to worry about such matters — she is not a part of Unit Bravo, after all — but she considers Detective Santos a friend, nonetheless. The idea of seeing them hurt is distressing, and an outcome she would rather avoid coming to pass.</p><p>Even so, if there is one good thing to come about as of late, it is that she has finally begun to feel confident in her new role. Being assigned as the Maa-alused liaison had been a shock, to say the least; Cordelia never applied for it, was happy in her position as a simple astronomy researcher, but <em>someone </em> (and she has a mighty hunch who) had recommended her for it, insisted that she would be a perfect choice.</p><p>She really must remember to thank Detective Santos.</p><p>Unbidden, thoughts of one Maa-alused in particular flit into her mind. Amber eyes, rich as spun gold and deep as the ocean, piercing, seeing into the core of her. A heat sweeps into her cheeks, sends a rush of warmth spreading through her, and she sighs, her own eyes slipping closed. The Maa-alused leader is still something of an enigma to her, elusive in his sharing of himself, guarded.</p><p>And yet, she feels a pull toward him. Oh, she knows a part of it is simple base attraction — he is handsome, ethereal in a sense, darkly evocative — but there is something <em>more</em>, something <em>deeper </em>that simmers just under the surface.</p><p>It is an emotion she dare not give voice to, cannot begin to consider. This is a job and she will not slack in her duties, will prove that she is up to the task, and yet… she is not blind. Cordelia has noticed his own gaze lingering on her, more than necessary, curious, wanting. Tries to ration it away as nothing more than idle fancy, but knows better, has lived too long not to recognize such things.</p><p>“Nothing will come of it,” she utters, speaks the words aloud so they might have more meaning, but it is too late. He is on her mind, and as always, he is content to linger.</p><p>She knows it would be a lie, to say that she has never… <em> considered </em>such things before, of course. More nights — and days, no sense in being dishonest — than she cares to admit have been spent pondering what it might be like to kiss him. What would he taste like? What would his hands feel like, on her body? Those talons against her flesh, would they caress or would they cut?</p><p>What might they feel like, between her — </p><p>A splash echoes through the air. Rings in her ears, and catches her off guard. Cordelia jerks away from the pool’s edge, body turning awkwardly in the water and a noise slips past her lips, a sound anywhere between a scream and a gasp, heart thundering in her chest.</p><p>“Falk?”</p><p>The man, previously little more than a daydream, floats only a foot away from her. And her first instinct is to ask what he is doing here — or rather <em>how </em>he is even here — but all too suddenly she notices him, takes in the sight of him, and her words turn into barely contained giggles.</p><p>He is fully dressed, sharp black robes embroidered in silver and blue now soaking wet, clinging to his figure. Water drips from silver-white strands, cascades down high cheekbones, and catches on full lips tugged into a frustrated scowl.</p><p>He looks, she thinks, very much like a cat given an unwelcome bath.</p><p>“Nice of you to drop in for a swim.”</p><p>“This was not the intended destination,” he snaps and if anything, his tone only serves to further her laughter, his own expression darkening. “It would seem the Agency has increased the strength of their warding spells.”</p><p>“Yes,” Cordelia manages, wiping at her eyes and offers him a grin, “after your little surprise visit last time, I believe they thought an update to their security was in order.”</p><p>Falk hums and there is a flicker of pride in his glowering look, no doubt pleased to hear he forced their hand in such a manner. “I suppose it is partially my own fault, for not accounting for such things,” and his tone makes it clear that such a miscalculation will <em>not </em>happen again.</p><p>And it is hilarious, but Cordelia finds herself with the same original question.</p><p>“I had no idea you could travel via water,” she says and already, her curiosity is piqued, mind swirling with questions, “can you move between any reflective surfaces?”</p><p>Perhaps it is merely her imagination, once more playing tricks on her poor mind, but he appears almost <em>pleased </em>by her inquiry, by her apparent desire to know more. Falk opens his mouth, no doubt to provide answers when abruptly he goes still. His gaze slides downward and oh, <em>oh</em>, there is an entirely different shadow in his eyes now.</p><p>And it is hungry, devouring. And she recalls, too late, her near lack of clothing. Feels bare under his scrutiny, despite the thin strips of fabric covering her.</p><p>Then, his eyes are on her own again, and she can feel the blush overtaking her. It spills into her cheeks and pours down, flushes across her neck, even lower still. An itch forms deep in her belly, coils tight and pools between her legs, embers of heat rekindling. </p><p>She is no stranger to that look, but for the first time in a very long time, she finds that she doesn’t mind it — and, if she is honest, even welcomes it.</p><p>Falk remains silent and it feels a bit like a contest, to see who might break first. Her mind is alive with an odd, buzzing hum, growing in volume and she fears that she might go mad if it continues. “What are you doing here?” The words sound distant, outside of herself, and she is only thankful that her voice is steady.</p><p>But from the spark of amusement in that molten gaze is any indication, her reaction to his stare has not gone unnoticed.</p><p>“I was thinking of you,” he begins, no hint of hesitation, and then, “and of our last meeting.”</p><p>Ah, that. A discussion turned philosophical debate, arguing the merits of his people and their approach to the concept of guilt. It shames her a bit now, but Cordelia knows she let herself get carried away — recalls her voice rising, a strength in her tone she has been careful to keep quiet, to remain neutral and accommodating.</p><p>“I apologize if I offended you.”</p><p>He gives a wave of his hand, water rippling around him. “No, I quite enjoyed it,” and that look is stronger now, consuming his gaze, consuming her. “Sanja is the only one who dares raise her voice to me, it was… nice, to see you speak so freely, passionately even.”</p><p>The way his voice drops at the end is enough to send a pulse of need straight to her center and she bites down on her lip, to keep from making a fool of herself.</p><p>Is so concerned with maintaining her own composure that she does not notice his approach until he is inches from her. And despite the chill of the water, the heat from him is overwhelming, intoxicating. He is so close now, within reach, and her fingers twitch, drawn to him. Instead, she forces herself to meet his gaze and swallows, those golden irises stained black, pupils blown wide.</p><p>“Did you come here for a specific reason?” A test, a safety net. Gauging interest, without giving herself away, not entirely.</p><p>Those keen eyes soak her in eagerly and there is lust there, yes, but something more. Respect, affection, it is raw, tender in a way that threatens to drown her.</p><p>He risks a bit closer, eliminates yet more distance between them, and she has nowhere to go, concrete behind her. “<em>Ma tahtsin sind näha</em>,” his voice is a rumble, crawls into her and burrows deep, makes itself at home. She is still learning his language, but there is enough knowledge there to get a vague idea of what the words mean.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I believe it should be obvious, <em> tähesära</em>,” and oh, she knows this word. It flows into her, pure light burrowing between the cracks and nooks of her being, leaves her floating, burning.</p><p>Cordelia reaches for him, quick as lightning. Bunches her fingers in the front of his shirt, drenched velvet heavy in her hold, and tugs, pulls him crashing into her. He meets her like a man starving and his mouth on her own is insistent, ravenous. Arms cage her in, hands gripping the pool’s edge, and every inch of her is alight now, singing for him.</p><p>Her heart pounds in her chest, rapid as a hummingbird, and she moans. The sound bubbles up from some secret, hidden place within her, and Falk swallows it, makes it a part of himself. Slicks his tongue over hers and licks into her mouth, exploring, wanting. She loses herself in his flavor — fresh mint, popping bright on her tongue, and smooth, rich vanilla, cloying and enticing — and the taste spills down her throat as wine, like nectar.</p><p>And she commits it to memory, shall never forget, always just on the tip of her tongue.</p><p>When he presses closer, her legs open of their own volition and he slots himself between them. Fits as if he were always meant to be there, made for her. She hooks them around his middle and presses in tight and his snarl reverberates through her, rattles her heart.</p><p>Falk breaks apart from her, leaves her mouth and she chases him, tries to recapture his lips, catches one between her teeth. And his laughter is a rumble of thunder, dark and electric and she is lost now, mind engulfed in a haze of white and lust and <em> Falk</em>. He trails kisses down her jaw, along the hollow of her throat, and his teeth follow suit, nipping and teasing and tasting.</p><p>Each little bite is enough to send her spiraling and the sounds she makes are desperate, pathetic, breathy exhales of his name. Cards her fingers through his hair, lets the shimmering locks twine around, and holds on, tries to keep her tenuous balance. </p><p>“<em>Unistan sinust nii päeval kui ööl</em>,” comes a murmur, warm against her damp skin, a mark burning hot as a brand. “Many a night I have wondered how you might taste,” his tongue flicks along her pulse, erratic in her veins, “how you might sound as I move inside of you,” and Cordelia cannot hope to muffle the whimper that slips out of her, eyes fluttering shut, nerves skittering with anticipation. </p><p>His teeth graze at the shell of her ear, tongue ghosting along the delicate point, and her whimper dissolves into a moan, body arching toward him. “Tell me, <em> tähesära</em>, have you thought of me?”</p><p>“Yes,” the word comes too quickly, unbidden, breaks through the fog consuming her, and bursts out, fills the air between them. “<em>Please</em>,” she pleads, but cannot say more, throat filling with a tangle of thorns and emotions, too many to name.</p><p>Mercifully, Falk seems to understand. </p><p>He moves closer still until she is trapped between his body and the pool’s edge, and now his hands are free to wander, free to touch, free to unravel her.</p><p>Sharp talons glide down her sides and it is a strange sensation, being touched while submerged, but the shivers that dance along her spine are familiar. His hands are firm, smooth, and slide between her legs with an ease that might shock her, if she were not busy wanting them just a little higher, not quite in the right spot. Falk curls his fingers along her inner thighs. Traces circles with those fierce nails, and it is silly, ridiculous even, but a fear strikes her.</p><p>“Your nails — ”</p><p>Falk chuckles, mouth at her ear. “Do not fret, <em> armatus</em>, I intend only to bring you pleasure.”</p><p>A knuckle drags along her center, firm, precise. Even with the thin slip of fabric, his touch is a flame, scorching, hot enough to consume her. He takes his time — up, then down, and back up once more; a torturous dance — and she scrambles to remain in control, to maintain some sense of coherence. Grabs at him, fingers scrabbling to find a hold at his back, at his shoulders, at any inch of him she might reach. And then his mouth is back at her throat, over her pulse, and when he presses into her, the nail is dull, smooth, no longer a concern.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>, Falk, I — ” but the words turn to ash on her tongue as he breaches the barrier below, and those graceful, nimble fingers slick through her folds, dip into her smoldering core and all that remains is a cry, broken, keening.</p><p>He rolls a thumb at her clit, slow little circles that send flutters of pleasure ricocheting through her, and it is everything she can do to keep quiet, clamps a hand over her mouth and throws her head back. Those fingers curve up, splay wide, and she tries to choke back a wail, feet kicking against the stone wall. </p><p>But her efforts, it seems, are not appreciated. Falk takes hold of her wrist and pulls her hand away, just as her eyes snap open. He catches her gaze with his own and smiles, a sly thing, sharp as a blade. </p><p>“No, <em> tähesära</em>, I want to hear you.”</p><p>And who is she, to deny such a request?</p><p>It takes little time before the room is filled with her cries, shaking, jagged little sounds that echo in the quiet. Falk is, it seems, a bit of an expert at this — seems to find every little spot, all the right angles, that make her vision go white and her legs quiver — and it makes sense, given his lifespan, but she worries. A nagging little voice at the back of her head, venomous, <em> will I disappoint? </em></p><p>She is no virgin, of course not, but her experience is… limited and it has been many years since she felt the touch of another, left only with the company of her own hand.</p><p>Which far pale in comparison to <em>his </em>hands. Exquisite and masterful, playing her as if she were some fine instrument, drawing melodies from her she never thought possible. Another finger descends into her and oh, her blood is molten, a chorus singing in her veins. That knot low in her belly grows, tighter and tighter, so very heavy now.</p><p>His lips are mere inches from her own, a single breath between them, and she cannot stand it, will not abide it. Leans forward to close the gap and melts into the kiss, into the sublime heat of his mouth, of his tongue snaring with her own. Below, his fingers are merciless, set in their task, and she is coming apart at the seams, slowly but surely, and all she can think is <em>more</em>, she wants more.</p><p>Wants him completely, utterly.</p><p>Breaks the kiss to tell him as much, panting, lungs aching. “Inside,” she manages, swallows hard, and her lips feel swollen, “I want you inside of me, <em> please</em>.”</p><p>Falk growls. Low and rough and <em>hungry</em>. Captures her mouth with his once more and now the race is on, hands working in tandem to remove the obstacles impeding their shared goal. Her bottom is easy, one flick of his adept fingers and the tie at her waist is undone and she is free, but his pants are a minor struggle — heavy with water, too many buttons and her fingers fumble — and she huffs, snarls, frustration rising.</p><p>Warm laughter curls around her, soft tendrils weaving through the nooks in her bones. Flows down her throat like honey, smooth and sweet. Drives her forward, ever on, determined. He offers no assistance, content it seems to watch her struggle, but when she finally succeeds and pulls his pants away, something dark flashes in his gleaming eyes. It flares, wild as a flame, and roars to life when she wraps her fingers around his length and his growl is deep. Sends a jolt straight to her center and sets every last nerve aflame, a conflagration sparking out of control.</p><p>Those hands are at her hips now, firm, demanding. Yet still, he pauses, meets her gaze, and he is silent, but the question hangs between them, clear as a dawning day.</p><p>Cordelia smiles, traces the curve of his cheek, and nods. “I want you,” and her consent is all he needs.</p><p>He sinks into her and he is slow, careful, <em> gentle</em>. Rubs soothing circles at her hips, talons surprisingly tender, and her breath is shallow, chest rising and falling as her body adjusts to the feel of him, to the sensation of being full, no longer one being but two, joined.</p><p>For a moment, they are still and quiet — all she can hear is the sound of his breathing, ragged, and the gentle lapping of water, and her own heart, hammering in her ears — and Falk leans forward, bumps his forehead into her own, eyes half-lidded, consumed in black. And she realizes he is waiting for her, for a signal to continue, that she is okay.</p><p>But no words will come, no matter how she searches for them. All that is left to her are emotions, raw and scorching and so she shows him, pulls him into a kiss that threatens to devour them both, and mercifully, beautifully, he understands.</p><p>She rolls her hips, a quiet affirmation, and he answers eagerly. Rocks into her, cautious, teasing. It requires a bit of time and effort, to find a rhythm, and the edge digging into her back is a distant annoyance, but soon they fall into sync. Their moves become a harmony, united, and now, Cordelia makes no effort to mask her sounds of pleasure.</p><p>Breathes his name over and over with each sigh, a plea, and he buries himself in the crook of her neck, utters words and phrases she cannot make out, imprints them upon her soul. Her own hands slide into his hair, curl around his neck, and she finds that no amount of touch is enough, she is ever ravenous, desiring more, more, <em> more</em>.</p><p>Then, she is moving.</p><p>Her gasp is drowned by a loud <em>slosh </em>of water as he hoists her up and tips her back. Tendrils of fiery hair splay out wildly, stark against white concrete, and she almost thinks to question him, but then one of his hands is sliding up her side, fingers dancing along the curve of her spine, and when her top slips off, bunched into his hold and tossed behind her, the intent is crystal clear.</p><p>Falk begins a pilgrimage down her body, mouth forging a holy trail that leaves her dizzy, blazing from within. Lips close around her breast and his tongue rolls across her nipple, sucks, drags the sensitive nub between his teeth and her moan is a cry, wanton, shattering.</p><p>He growls. Rumbling, raw. It echoes inside her chest and settles there, splits apart the bones, and burrows deep into the marrow.</p><p>And she will always carry this piece of him with her, for the rest of her days.</p><p>Every thrust is another flutter of pleasure at her core, electricity zigzagging through her veins, and that tightness in her belly is burning now, white creeping along the edge of her vision, toes curling. The hand at her lower back pressed in tight, claws charting a course between her freckles, and his other is not idle, moving, seeking.</p><p>Glides between their slick bodies, flush together, and slots itself between them, finding her center. Two fingers swirl at her clit, heavy, resolute. He is relentless in his pace, rocking into her, and she can feel herself slipping, fast approaching that edge. Ready to leap, to soar.</p><p>“Yes, right there, <em> fuck</em>,” are the only words left to her, all others gone and flown away, chased out by the desire that fogs her mind. </p><p>Thoughts of him, of his touch, of his mouth, of <em>everything</em>. </p><p>His mouth leaves her breast and treks upward, over her throat, along her jaw. Stops at her lips, so close and yet so very far, too far. “Cordelia, <em> armatus</em>, <em> vajan sind</em>,” he breathes, and there is a reverence when he says her name, more beautiful than ever before. Rugged and hoarse and sends her heart into a frenzy, pulls her under the waves.</p><p>“You have me, <em> cariad</em>.” </p><p>The kiss is starved, ravaging, and she falls into it willingly. He murmurs something, whispers it onto her tongue, but the words flow down her throat and are lost; or perhaps merely planted, seeds that might one day sprout forth into something beautiful, precious. </p><p>Her undoing is swift. Crashes into her, a wave upon a storming sea, and in her eyes, stars dance, a kaleidoscope of color and light and pleasure. She breaks away, out of the kiss, and his name tumbles from her lips like a litany, a holy prayer, and it is answered in the way his hips snap into her, never faltering, guiding her through this tempest. </p><p>Body going taut as a bowstring, she gasps, shaking. Inside of her, that knot unwinds, falls to threads. She scrambles to find a proper hold on him, fingers curling at his shoulders but it is not enough, will not keep her in one piece, and Cordelia arches into him, propels herself forward, and winds her arms around his neck, holds on tight. </p><p>Oh, but he is close now. </p><p>She can feel it in the way he shudders in her arms as she floats down from her high, body weightless and numb. Can hear it in the way he no longer speaks, words reduced now to heady moans and broken growls. And in the way he fucks her, passion and wild abandon overtaking patience and grace. </p><p>Cordelia pulls back, away. Slides her hands to his face, thumbs sweeping along his cheeks, and his lips on her own are sweet, intoxicating. Her teeth graze along his bottom lip, nipping, and her tongue follows, soothes the sting. </p><p>And when he shatters, she drinks in the sound of his pleasure.</p><p>Against her, Falk unravels. Hips jerk into her own erratically, once, twice, and three, four, more times. There is a warmth seeping into her now, spreading out, coiling through her, and she sighs, moans. Breathes his name into his mouth, so he might taste it on his tongue, know the flavor of it. His hands find her waist and she fits so well, into the curve of his palms, a missing puzzle piece finally home.</p><p>It feels like an eternity before they pull apart, breath shallow and lips swollen. Weary contentment spreads through her limbs and she leans back, one arm falling into the water, fingers tapping mindlessly against the stone wall. Cordelia meets his gaze and the look in those golden eyes threatens to steal the air from her lungs, to take the heart right out of her and make it his own.</p><p>The thought, she finds, is not nearly as terrifying as she imagines it should be.</p><p>“Well,” and her voice is quiet, leaden, “I must admit, I didn’t anticipate this when I decided to go for a midnight swim.”</p><p>Falk smiles, soft, unassuming. At her side, he draws lazy half-circles and there is a sense, at least to her, that he is in no hurry to break this contact. “One should always plan for every possibility, Agent.”</p><p>Her laughter is loud, bubbling up and out of her. Gently, she nudges him and with great reluctance, he pushes away from her. Slowly, limbs languid and loose, she turns and pulls herself out of the water. Reaches for the top he discarded earlier and begins to secure it back into place, rising to stand. Behind her, Falk mirrors her actions, climbing out and to his feet.</p><p>It is only now that she realizes he is wearing shoes, and for some reason, the sight of them, soaking wet, is enough to make her giggle.</p><p>That is until he silently holds out his hand and in them, her bikini bottom. </p><p>A flush engulfs her and no doubt now as red as her hair, she takes the item from him with shaking fingers. “Thank you,” she murmurs and turns away to put it back on, fumbling with the tie, aware of how silly this all is.</p><p>She is only just about done with the bloody string when a hand settles at her waist and his lips are next to her ear, strands of damp hair falling over her shoulder. </p><p>“Shall we find a place to dry off, <em> tähesära</em>?” </p><p>Cordelia shivers, lips rolling together, and his taste is still fresh on her tongue. She leans into him, an instinct newly born, and nods. “Yes, I think that would be a fine idea.”</p><p>Yet, even as she slips her hand into his and leads him out, into the corridors and toward her room, she has a nagging suspicion that whatever happens, drying off will be the least of their concerns.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and/or comments are appreciated! I'm also on <a href="https://baswynric.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p><p>Translations (feel free to point out if anything is incorrect!):<br/><em>Ma tahtsin sind näha</em> = I wanted to see you.<br/><em>Tähesära</em> = starshine<br/><em>Unistan sinust nii päeval kui ööl</em> = I dream of you day and night<br/><em>Armatus</em> = Love.<br/><em>Vajan sind</em> = I need you.<br/><em>Cariad</em> = Love.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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